Fury Road Trip
by LordofDorkness
Summary: After their babysitting charge steals a motorcycle and escapes out West, Ikkaku and Yumichika risk death on the open road to retrieve her. Anything's better than getting murdered in their beds by her terrifying guardian. Inspired by Mad Max: Fury Road, with great love and little respect.
1. Prologue: Dawn

A dust cloud followed the lone motorcycle speeding down Route 66. The light from the rising sun shone off a bubblegum-pink helmet. It was a mystery how she had gotten the huge machine onto the road, since she clearly couldn't reach the gear lever, but she was now perched confidently on a large cushion and riding for freedom. Behind the rumble of the bike, all was quiet. The world slept.


	2. Warning Shots in a Cow Pasture

A few miles back and a few hours earlier...

Small portions of the world, as it turned out, did not sleep. Notably, and perhaps most importantly, neither did Yumichika Ayasegawa. He woke abruptly to a clamoring, bellowing cacophony outside his window. Being about as coordinated in the morning as the walking dead on stilts, he managed to get twisted in his blankets and fell gracelessly out of bed, scattering cucumber slices and curlers everywhere. He got up, wincing and squashing cucumbers into the carpet; somebody had to pay.

Luckily, somebody was still hollering away, right outside the house. He shoved his window open and stuck his head out to give them a piece of his mind, forgetting for a moment how entirely unbeautiful he looked. He was just in time to hear a key bit of information:

"Yumi! If you don't get out here right now, I'm breaking down the door! Do you hear me? Breaking it! Right now! Alri-"

"Ikkaku, you filthy baboon, don't you dare break my house!"

The human-shaped figure at the front of the house, a gleam off the bald head just visible in the late moonlight, halted a wild kick just inches from the door in question. He seemed to forget to put down his foot as he turned to address Yumichika properly.

"If I can't break it, then get down here and open it! We gotta go!"

"The only place I'm going is back to bed! Get off my lawn!"

"Fine, then throw me your keys! I need your car!"

"If you want my car, come back in the morning! Then I'll be awake to say you can't have it! Your driving sucks! Now leave!"

Luckily for the neighbors, Yumichika lived a couple miles out from anybody who was bothered by ruckus in the middle of the night. The worst they would do is come out and threaten to shoot you for scaring the cattle. Typical rural Kansas.

Anyway, in the midst of all the shouting, the nagging idea began to form in his foggy brain that something was not quite right. Ikkaku should be... somewhere else. Somewhere important. Because he had taken the night shift. Yumichika quickly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, irrevocably smearing his overnight face mask. He pointed with his besmirched arm out the window in accusation.

"Why aren't you watching the Hellbeast? She might escape!"

"That's what I said! She escaped! She blew out my tires and took the captain's bike and drove away! Now get out here or give me your keys!" Ikkaku had finally set down his foot, so as to more effectively wave his arms like a windmill having conniptions.

Yumichika was suitably affected. He paused, finger still pointing, and took a deep breath. His exhale turned into something like a shout halfway through.

"You had one job! One! This is your fault! I'm not gonna die because of you and your stupid naps and your stupid face! No!"

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING GIVE ME YOUR KEYS."

"OH MY GOD YOU WERE DRUNK, YOU WERE DRUNK AND YOU FELL ASLEEP."

"THAT'S IT, I'M BREAKING DOWN THE DOOR NOW."

The warning shots from the neighbor to the west put down that idea pretty quickly. Ikkaku took cover behind some poorly-managed shrubberies and Yumichika ducked under the window sill until the disgruntled fellow was satisfied and had run out of shot. They both peeked out and could just barely see him stumping back off through the pasture in a fuzzy maroon bathrobe. Yumichika stood up, much calmer than a moment ago, donned his own dressing gown and slippers and went to unlock the door. He found it unlocked and sat down morosely on the step. Ikkaku sat down next to him, covered in leaves.

"It wasn't locked."

"I wouldn't just barge in without knocking. I'm not a barbarian."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"So about that car..."

"There's a problem. It won't start."

Ikkaku's eyes widened in horror. "So that's why you weren't at work yesterday. What are we gonna do?"

"... steal a car? There's no way we can catch her on foot."

Ikkaku slumped, staring at the cement between his knees. Yumichika curled into a face masked ball and started mentally drafting his will. If Ikkaku survived, he wasn't getting anything. Suddenly, Ikkaku turned his head back to face him, sideways.

"Wait. What about that car your mom gave you? That funny jeep?"

Yumichika's face visibly paled, even in the weak moonlight and under the remnants of the face mask. "You don't know what you're asking. There is nothing funny about that jeep." He gulped. "You couldn't understand."

Ikkaku turned completely, face drawn in suspicion. "You would rather DIE than drive your mom's car? There's nothing wrong with it! This is something dumb again, isn't it?"

Yumichika glared back. "It's not dumb! I'm completely serious! It's the most awful thing on four wheels! I can't even step into my own garage for fear of seeing it!"

Now Ikkaku was the one pointing indignantly. He jumped back to his feet. "I was right! It is dumb! Just put some pants on and we'll go!" He was already shifting his weight to spring toward the garage when they heard another warning shot, this time from the east. They both flinched and quieted down.

Yumichika sighed, weighing his options as he studied his slippers. How could his life fall apart in just a single night? Oh wait, he knew: Babysitting. He squared his shoulders resolutely as he came to a decision. "Just let me pack and we can go."


	3. Non-Euclidean Colorimetries

Yumichika got dressed and packed in record time. Ikkaku only barely fell asleep waiting. He snapped back to wakefulness as Yumichika re-emerged from the house with an enormous duffle bag, hair gleaming perhaps slightly less than usual. Yumichika was passing him to lead the way toward the garage when he stopped and turned back to stare critically at Ikkaku.

"Why are you not wearing a shirt?"

Ikkaku raised a brow in confusion. "Why would I wear a shirt at night?"

"It won't be night in a few hours. How much of a head start did she get on that bike?"

"I've got my wallet. It's not like I'm not prepared."

"If you wear the same pants for more than three days in a row, I'm throwing you out of the car." Yumichika's face screwed up at the thought and decided to stay that way. "Actually, if you wear the same pants for more than three days AT ALL I'm throwing you out of the car." He returned to his mission, but stopped at the garage door. He placed his hand on the knob. He stared hard at the door, not turning the knob.

"Open the door already, Yumi. It's just a jeep!"

"We've been over this. It's not." Sighing, he turned the knob and pushed open the door. He briefly contemplated leaving the light off, but remembered that he hadn't cleaned in there for over a year and thought better of it. The idea was to NOT die, after all.

He switched on the light. There it was. As far as he was concerned (which is about as far as is necessary for anyone to be concerned, ever), there was a really, really good reason why wisteria is an uncommon color for a jeep. Wonderful, outstanding, tasteful, human decency-related reason. His mother had even bought the model with off-road tires. His mother had never driven off-road in her entire life. She had used it to sell Tupperware. His resolve wilted and he started to back out, pulling the door closed.

Ikkaku had other plans. He grabbed Yumichika, who yelped, and his duffel, one under each arm, and stepped up to the monster. He deposited Yumichika at the driver's side door, tossed the duffel into the back (the top was down, conveniently), and then opened the door and transferred Yumichika to the seat.

Yumichika, who hadn't had time to respond with anything other than the initial yelp, realized how much dust he was sitting in and gave up. He was done, much like white girls who like to consume Starbucks coffee-type beverages are done. So done. Just done. He resigned himself to the fact that taste and human decency were dead, and he would be dead as well if he didn't drive that ugly jeep out of that dirty garage and follow the Hellbeast on that stupid, oversized motorcycle all the way to who-knows-where.

Ikkaku was in the passenger seat by that point. He helpfully reached over and poked the button for the garage door on the old, disused keychain. The door creaked to life, scattering more dust and an old bird's nest into the jeep. Yumichika continued to be done (and had a sudden, strong desire to buy and wear yoga pants) as he prodded the wisteria monstrosity to life and switched on the headlights. They rolled out onto the driveway with the powers of off-road tires and four-wheel drive. The garage door rumbled shut, scattering more dust. The garage light was forgotten as they continued out onto the dark country road.


	4. Wings & Cavities

Fifteen hundred miles was nothing! Those two clowns weren't her keepers. She was still a young woman; she had prospects! She had had a private laugh at Baldy, snoozing away while she siphoned his gas, and that gas now sat in a can firmly attached to the back of her bike. She had five packages of Oreos and a gallon of Red Bull in the saddlebags. The conference was still a few days away. Life was good.


	5. (Get Your Kicks on)

"Yumi. Yumi? Where do you think she went? Where are we going?"

"I don't know and I don't care. There is a nest in my hair. Tell me when to turn."

"Where do teenage girls go after they steal motorcycles?"

"My hair."

"Do you think Rangiku knows? I think she's out of town. What's her number?"

"If anyone sees me like this I'll have to kill them. Then kill myself."

"She was going to some... woman thing. Costume party? Convention!"

"Not you. Imagine you judging my hair. Nope. You're safe."

"That's it!" Ikkaku pumped his fist through the open roof and slapped Yumichika on the shoulder. Yumichika jumped out of his stupor and stared, letting the jeep roll to a stop. "She wanted to go to the woman convention thing! In California! That's why she left!"

"That thing? I thought the captain said she couldn't go. She wouldn't go if he said that."

Ikkaku flapped his hand in dismissal. "No, no, I just lied about that. He wasn't answering his phone. I think he forgot to turn it on. She probably found out and got mad at me." He skimmed his hand thoughtfully over his smooth head. "Now I think of it, that's probably why I had drool all over my head when I woke up."

"So she's driving the captain's bike all the way to California? She has 1500 miles to get lost between here and there! We'll never find her!"

"I bet she took that old map the captain keeps lying around. Even SHE can't get lost on Route 66. Well, according to the map."

"That old thing? It's ancient! Route 66 doesn't even exist anymore! Parts of the road are literally gone!"

"... so she'd definitely take it."

"Yeah, she would. Let's go." Yumichika directed the jeep back out onto the road and toward the venerable, much-beloved byway. The sky was just beginning to hint at the coming dawn. Garage dust wafted behind them into the distance.


	6. Dangerous Morons

It took about an hour to get to the border, and the sun had long since decided to come up and try to blind them as they drove east. Sure, California was the other way, but they wanted to make sure they didn't miss her broken down on the side of the road somewhere along the way to Route 66 according to that map. She wasn't the sort to successfully take shortcuts.

As the sun had not yet risen enough to provide a lot of heat, it appeared that Ikkaku had finally realized that he was not wearing a shirt in a vehicle with no roof. He had his arms tightly folded and his sandaled feet pulled up on the dash. Yumichika glanced sideways at him and smirked. Ikkaku glared back.

"First time you smile today, and it's to mock my bad luck. Real nice."

Yumichika tossed his hair, now nest-free, and answered in a sing-song voice. "Maybe you should have listened to me. Want to borrow a shirt?"

"There's no way I'd fit into one of your skinny shirts."

Yumichika ceased smirking in favor of a petulant frown. "I am not skinny. I'm slender."

"Sure, but your shirts are skinny."

"Well you can't have one, anyway. You'd stretch it out. It would stink forever."

"Yeah. Real nice."

"This is all your fault. Suffer in silence or you can ride in the back."

"The back is right there! There is no space between the front and back. There is no space in this thing. I can't feel my feet."

"You can ride CLINGING TO THE BACK. Then I wouldn't be able to hear you whine."

"That's rich, coming from Mr. Can't-Bear-the-Purple-Jeep."

"It's not just any purple. It's WISTERIA. No respectable vehicle is wisteria. I'm surprised we haven't been stopped by the police."

"The fashion police don't have jurisdiction on the road, pretty sure. How long is this damn trip gonna take?"

"Are we measuring from when you bothered to wake up? When we left? When SHE left?"

"I wasn't planning to take the night shift! I just didn't want to hear you complain about your complexion anymore! It's just as much your fault as mine!"

"Well that's okay then! Now I can feel completely justified in getting murdered for contributing to letting her escape!" Yumichika then realized that he had taken both hands off the wheel in order to face Ikkaku to yell at him properly, and they were veering into oncoming traffic. Ikkaku followed his gaze from glaring at him and they both let out distinctly unmanly shrieks. Yumichika pivoted back and swerved sharply, while the disgruntled commuter in the other lane leaned on her horn and gave him the finger. The drivers of the vehicles behind them decided that they were dangerous morons. They sweated in silence. Where did all of that traffic come from all of a sudden?

Ikkaku was staring grumpily out at the scenery. He spotted a city limit sign. "Where the hell is Tulsa? Did we get turned around? I think we're in Arkansas."

"It's in Oklahoma. It's always been in Oklahoma. It's literally three hours from where you live. Are you really as stupid as you look?"

"Shut up." He rested his chin on his fist and leaned his forehead against the window. "I'm hungry. I can't think when I'm hungry."

"I thought you were SO prepared. You didn't think to stow some sandwiches in your wallet before we left?"

"What, you've got some in your giant purse?"

"No, but I have some granola bars in my bag. I left my purse at home. You know that."

Ikkaku perked up at that. "You had food this whole time and you let me starve? You're terrible. The worst." He unbuckled his seatbelt and started to get up.

"What are you doing? Stop!" Yumichika looked horrified.

"What? Oh, you won't share, eh?" He deflated back against the window. "Jerk."

"Don't stand up in the car! What if we hit a bump? You'll fall out! This thing doesn't even have walls! It's evil!"

Ikkaku was once more invigorated by the possibility of food. "Is that all? No, it's good, see, I'll hold onto this bar. Fine. No worries. Good?" He was standing up again.

Yumichika cringed against the steering wheel, peeking through his hands toward the road. He managed a grunt that wasn't clearly a "no." A dignified grunt.

Ikkaku stood up on his seat, bent over the bar and began rooting around in the back to unzip the duffel bag. He had to lean REALLY far over, putting most of his weight on his stomach over the bar, to dig the zipper out from the end of the zipper-protector-deally thing. As the gods of dramatic tension did so decree, Yumichika at that moment failed to see a pothole coming up as he peered through his fingers at the road. Yumichika did not fail to grasp the ham-handed literary device in play when they hit the hole, however, and grabbed wildly for Ikkaku's foot as the latter went pitching over the rail. The wild grab caught the foot yet ultimately failed to stop Ikkaku's fall, but it changed his trajectory enough that he did not flip out of the vehicle to be run over by the horrified drivers behind them. Instead, his head (more strongly resembling a pachinko ball at that moment than any other time in his life) bounced off the spare tire and he landed heavily on the folded down vinyl top. On his face.

This event and the one preceding involving oncoming traffic firmly established for their fellow commuters that morning that this was a pair of dangerous morons, dangers to themselves and others, and they really should just go back to Kansas before somebody got hurt. Everybody just eased off the gas and let themselves be outpaced. Which was easy, because Yumichika had accidentally jammed his foot down on the accelerator as he flailed around in his seat to try to save his passenger.

In a more controlled version of his fall, Ikkaku's foot joined him behind the seat as he resituated himself on top of the duffel bag. Seeing that Ikkaku was not dead, and in no clear and present danger of being dead, Yumichika returned his attention to the road and tried to stop hyperventilating. He saw an exit and was about to take it, but Ikkaku's hand appeared out from behind the seat to grip his shoulder.

"No! It's fine! We'll never catch her if you stop now!"

Or rather, he said something very much like that, but in the way one speaks when one is holding one's nose with one's free hand to keep a nosebleed in check. Which he was.

Yumichika glanced behind him and lost any remaining feelings of worry for his passenger. "Stop bleeding all over my bag! Stick your head out the back or something!" He stopped, then, and snorted to himself (attractively). "Why don't you make yourself useful and smear some of that blood over that hideous wisteria paint?"

Ikkaku grumbled incomprehensibly, but lurched carefully away from the duffel while tipping his head and holding his nose. He had evidently decided to wait for the river to ebb before attempting the climb back into his seat, as he remained crouched in the back for some time. When he finally made his move, Yumichika made sure to keep both hands on the wheel, both eyes on the road. Only once Ikkaku was back in his seat did Yumichika dare to look over to assess the damage.

It was... interesting. Artistic, almost. Ikkaku had not been paying much attention to the state of his hands, it seemed, and had managed to plant a lovely red print on the side of his bare head. There was significant seepage now drying down his chin and neck, as well. Very primeval. Convenient that he hadn't been wearing a shirt, after all. Also, his nose was turning purple and he looked kind of pale.

At least he had managed to grab the granola bars for his efforts. Yumichika took one while Ikkaku melted into the seat, chewing and appearing to be steadfastly ignoring the growing pain in his face. Yumichika began to wonder what passing traffic would think of them, with the bloody specter sitting next to him. Nobody seemed to be around all of a sudden, though. Not even the people who had been behind them through most of Tulsa. Huh.

He was performing a cursory inspection of the dash after scanning behind him for the Tulsa commuters when he saw it. The gas gauge. Nearly empty. They had to stop anyway. They could have avoided that entire fiasco. It was pointless.


	7. Cross-Country Travel on a Budget

They pulled into a small gas station in a small town with a name of dubious pronunciation a while after nearly falling off a poorly maintained bridge. It had seemed pretty tame, all things considered. Yumichika jumped out to fill the tank and was faced with the renewed revulsion of seeing the jeep from the outside again. At least the interior wasn't quite as awful. Most of the dust had blown away or worked its way into their clothes.

He reached back over the door and poked Ikkaku, who looked like he was going to fall asleep. "Hey. Move. You look crusty and disgusting. Go clean up in their bathroom."

Ikkaku yawned and stretched, and some of the blood smeared on his chest started to flake off. He dragged his hand carefully under his nose, then caught site of the result and stared. He grinned "I look like a badass."

"You look like a corpse. Stop getting blood all over the seats."

"You don't even like this car!"

"And yet, the idea of it being a hideous color on the outside and in a hideous state of filth on the inside does not appeal to me. Go."

Ikkaku went to roll his eyes, but it turned out to involve scrunching up his nose, so he quit. He flapped his hand placatingly instead as he got out and headed for the gas station convenience store. "Want anything?"

"See if they have any of those sandwiches. Not the nasty ones. You know. Or maybe corn nuts." He was fiddling with the pump, then was struck by another thought. "And no Oreos! If you buy them, I'm not letting you back in the car!"

Ikkaku waved behind him one last time and the station door swung shut behind him. The cashier went back to not ogling obviously at the bloody shirtless guy through the station window. Yumichika gloomily watched the bill climb higher. Jeeps were were not the best choice for cross-country travel on a budget. On the other hand, it took almost no time at all to clean the windows.

As the gallons continued to tick by, Yumichika began to wonder how the Hellbeast had been able to drive this far. As far as he knew, she didn't have a lot of money. Was she buying gas? She might have even stopped here, considering the size of the tank on that monstrosity of a bike she had taken. That wasn't even taking into account the physical impossibility of her riding it at all, of course. She was not much a fan of physics.

He had just finished paying as Ikkaku came back, corn nuts, a huge bag of chips and a case of off-brand caffeinated soft drink in hand. "No sandwiches. No beer, either. Weird place."

"Could you go back and ask the cashier if she's seen the Hellbeast? I feel like she couldn't get much farther without stopping."

Ikkaku shrugged, set down the food and went back in. Yumichika saw him talking to the cashier, who immediately looked incredibly confused. Probably didn't know what a Hellbeast was. Ikkaku apparently clarified, because she laughed and shook her head. Looked apologetic, and Ikkaku did that placating wave thing again.

No. Well, there were a lot of little towns out here. Could have been any of them. They would find her sooner or later, then capture her and bring her home, even if they had to run her off the road.


	8. Cross-Country Travel on a Budget, Op 2

Yachiru yawned as she tipped the spare gas can, listening to the satisfying glug into the tank. It sure was a pain getting up so early. She had held off on the Red Bull, thanks to the adrenaline from the escape, but she was reaching her limit. Time for some caffeine! They never let her have caffeine back home. She just hoped she would be able to sit still well enough to keep the bike from tipping over.


	9. Puffed up like a Vinyl Soufflé

Thanks to the powers of granola and packaged gas station snacks, they did not have to stop the rest of the way to the Texas border. It was going pretty well, actually. They were making good time, the road was empty, the sun was shining. It felt more like a pleasant road trip than a race to stave off certain death.

Just as they were crossing the border, they noticed a shadow at their backs. Something very much like a huge bank of clouds. Maybe a thunderhead. Needless to say, abnormal weather for a sunny summer day in Oklahoma. Hard to say for Texas.

It was catching up with them. They could hear rain. Of the torrential variety. Yumichika started to press down a little harder on the accelerator. Ikkaku was kneeling backwards in his seat, staring in horror at the approaching downpour, when he saw the furled top tied at the back of the jeep. It still had some of his nose blood dried onto it. He sprang into action.

Ikkaku vaulted the bar, with no ridiculous mishaps this time around. It was serious business; he had been cold enough that morning, and he didn't want to try cold and wet. The ridiculous mishaps instead began to unfold when he started trying to wrestle the vinyl top up in a speeding vehicle. Yumichika, who had never driven or cared for a jeep in his life, ignored the happenings in the back in favor of pushing the speed gauge to its limits while praying they didn't run into the police.

The first problem came as Ikkaku untied the top. It retained a good deal of its garage dust, and made unpleasant crackling noises when moved. It had been in storage for several years. The garage was not climate controlled. The vinyl was not forgiving of its longstanding mistreatment. However, it did not shatter. Not yet.

The second, and perhaps most important problem, was the wind. As he was frantically dragging the top up to make the turn for the roof, it puffed up the vinyl like a soufflé. The sudden movements intensified the crackling, crumpling noises, while Ikkaku was forced to hold on for dear life to avoid getting parachuted into the air. He began shouting (not screaming) for Yumichika to slow down. "I can't hold it! The wind's too strong! Stop!"

Yumichika refused to turn around to view the spectacle, but kept driving straight ahead, eyes fixed on the uneven road. "My bag isn't water proof! If you can't even manage to put the top up, I'm not stopping! We'll outrun it!" They remained barely ahead of the storm.

As it is with any soufflé, the vinyl jeep soufflé could only hold its light, puffy shape for a limited time. The high speed buffeting and desperate parachute grasping may have factored into shortening its lifespan, much like a gentle breeze can deflate a soufflé that isn't made out of vinyl (chocolate, for example). The vinyl soufflé did not, however, immediately collapse into a disappointing shade of its former delicious self. Instead, it began to crack along every folded seam, bits of vinyl flapping their way to fly free into the storm.

Yumichika, hearing the crackling intensify, finally took a look into the back. His eyes widened at the absurd sight of the roof, the rain, and Ikkaku flapping madly in the wind. Perhaps by accident, perhaps by some split-second stroke of genius, he slammed on the brake. Ikkaku was sent flying forward, still clutching the battered vinyl, and flipped the rail back into the front seat. His nose miraculously avoided additional injury. The jeep top, not so much, but it was no longer in a good position to catch the wind, and it remained lodged under Ikkaku. It was better than nothing, and the bag was safe. Yumichika leaned forward to avoid being squashed by the edge of the roof, got his foot back on the gas pedal and got them speeding along again. The rain hit with no time to spare.

The rain lasted for about five minutes. It was brief, but memorable. Everything was drenched. Yumichika was drenched. The seats were drenched. Ikkaku's pants were drenched. Yumichika pulled the jeep off onto the side of the road to assess the damage.

The bag was damp, but remarkably not drenched. He quickly shifted some clothes around to protect the more valuable items, then deemed it safe and placed it back in its spot. He put his hands on his hips and smiled a smile of exhausted victory. Then he cringed at the dampness and began wringing out his clothes. Ikkaku was on the other side of the jeep doing his best to get the water out of his pants. Yumichika decided finally to take advantage of his packed things and quickly changed into something dry, throwing the wet things into the back of the jeep, but Ikkaku had to settle for damp pants.

Ikkaku, squelching back to take stock of the damage to the roof, glared at Yumichika. "Is it supposed to do that? I've never seen anybody turn their convertible into a kite before." He held up a bit of shredded vinyl. "This thing is trashed."

Yumichika shrugged. "Maybe you aren't supposed to do it while you're moving?"

"Yeah, thanks a LOT for that. That's the SECOND TIME I've nearly DIED on this trip, and the captain's not even HERE."

"But you saved my bag! At least we've got that!" He stopped, looking at the soggy pants Ikkaku was sporting across the jeep. "... do you want to borrow some pants?"

Ikkaku sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. "I can't fit into your skinny shirts, and I'm pretty sure I can't fit into your tiny pants." He saw Yumichika's face, which could almost be classified as having a guilty expression, and sighed in a less long-suffering way. "It's fine. Look, at least I didn't break my nose on anything, right? Wet pants are nothing. Let's go." He put the finishing touches on jamming the ruined top back into place in front of the spare tire.

Taking the out provided to avoid apologizing out loud, Yumichika nodded and hopped back into the jeep. "Sure - eep!" The seats were still wet. Hi pants began getting wet again as well. Ikkaku got in across from him and smirked around his purple nose.

At least it had already gotten sunny again. Yumichika pulled them back out onto the road and started once more towards Amarillo, Texas. They were nearly halfway through that terrible, freak weather event-sporting state. They needed gas.


	10. Ridin' the Storm Out

Yachiru was passing through a small town when she noticed the sky getting dark behind her. She weighed her options: she could try to outrun it, or she could stop and hide in somebody's garage. No contest. She pulled into an open shed near the main drag, pulled off her helmet and pulled out the Oreos. She slid her phone out of her pocket and started texting feverishly as she shoved cookies into her mouth. As the rain came through, she took some quick selfies with her motorcycle, her Oreos and several items found in the shed. After a few minutes, the rain had let up and she was full of Oreos. She put everything away, secured her bright pink helmet, started the bike (don't ask how) and took off down the road once more. She even managed to keep going in the right direction. She decided it was a really, really lovely day.


	11. His Name was Not Mustachio

They got gas in Amarillo. Yumichika nearly cried as he watched the price of the trip continue to climb. Ikkaku was definitely paying him back for this later; at some point, it would be better to just get murdered. Nobody at the station had seen a bright pink half-pint on an oversized motorcycle come through, but again, there were plenty of other specks on the map to choose from. That, or she was stealing gas from cars parked in the street. Yumichika wasn't willing to place a bet either way. Ikkaku, who often bore the brunt of insults, drool and mandatory piggy-back rides, swore she was siphoning at every opportunity, starting with his car back home.

They were back on the road toward the New Mexican border when Ikkaku pulled out his phone. It had managed to survive the downpour and several crash-landings despite living in his pants. He poked at it and held it up to his ear, waiting. After a moment, he dropped it into his lap, disappointed.

Yumichika cocked a brow at him. "What's up? No reception?"

"It's not that. I was trying to call the captain."

Yumichika experienced a moment of sheer panic, but stopped himself at the thought that it hadn't worked. "Wait, were you trying to confess? We've practically got it under control. Don't do anything drastic!"

"It's not that!" That placating hand flap again. "I was just thinking, what if we finally got ahold of him? We could ask if she could go to the thing, just like she wanted. If he said yes, we could go home!"

"Isn't that a lot like... lying? That's not like you."

"It's not lying! It's just not... temporally honest." Ikkaku ducked his head and rubbed it in annoyance.

Yumichika replied with a deadpan stare. "I didn't know you knew words that long. 'Temporally.' Not as dumb as you look, after all."

"Shut up. I read it somewhere."

Yumichika dropped the deadpan stare and took his hands off the wheel for a moment to raise them toward the sky in a prayerful motion. "Reading, now! Who knew?"

"Jerk."

Back in standard driving posture, Yumichika gave Ikkaku an appraising glance. "It wasn't a bad idea, though. Too bad it didn't work."

"I know, right? He forgot to turn his phone on, for sure. I bet it's not even charged." He started to laugh. "Yachiru got it for him so he wouldn't get lost, you know?"

The laughter was contagious. Maybe they were desperate for any laugh at all. "Now we're all lost!"

They quieted down after a few minutes, descending through quiet chuckles into an uncomfortable silence. Yumichika spoke up again. "He's not actually lost, though, right? The guy he's supposed to meet would call the shop if he never showed up, right?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"... who did you leave watching the shop? When you came to get the car, I mean."

"Um. Yeah. Somebody?" Ikkaku scratched his head, sorting through foggy memories of the distant past. The night before, rather. "That one guy? The one with the mustache? Him. Yeah."

"Mustachio? The really, really ugly one? I don't even remember his real name. Is he the only one there? I'm not sure he's actually competent."

"Nah, he's fine. Great guy. He's got it covered."

Yumichika scowled suspiciously. "You don't know his name, either."

"Nope. We went out for beers one time, though. I got him to pay. Great guy."

"For all of it? Not bad. Maybe we should learn his name some time."

"Yeah. If we're not dead."

"Yeah. So does he know he's gonna be alone today?"

"What time is it?"

Yumichika pointed at the clock without looking at it. That sort of question didn't deserve a verbal answer.

"Ten-ish. Yeah, he knows now."


	12. Man and Machine Against the World

Kenpachi Zaraki stood leaning against the door of his truck, which was parked in the middle of a field. It might have been a corn field. He did not know. He was not much interested in agriculture. He was glaring intently at the tiny device cradled in his big hands, silently willing it to light up and do what he had been assured it would do. Which was give him directions.

He had not been a fan of his cell phone when he had been forced to buy it. It was not doing itself any favors by failing to cooperate when he needed it most. Not to say he was lost, exactly, but he had been driving for several hours and had not been able to get out of this corn field. Plant field? Plants.

He jabbed what he thought was the power button. Nothing. Jabbed the other button. Nothing. Tried the fiddly thing on the side. Big, fat nothing. How could a phone exist that had only three buttons? It wasn't any sort of proper phone at all. Never liked it. He probably would never have gotten lost if he hadn't been relying on the stupid toy.

He stopped, let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and ran a hand through his hair. He resisted the sudden urge to chuck the phone into the field and drive off into the rising sun through the damn corn. Plants. Yachiru would be unhappy if he chucked the phone she had picked out for him. Not that she ever called him. He never got any calls, come to think of it. Hadn't even bothered to look at it since he got it. He wasn't much of the hipster type, after all.

Well, that was that. No help coming from the magic box. It was time he stopped fiddling around with toys and did things the old fashioned way. Man and machine against the world. Driving all night down unlit country roads through fields and fields of... something. Deep in the heart of Texas. Or not. He really wasn't sure anymore. He had been seeing a lot of signs written in French before he got stuck in this field.


	13. Not Afraid of a Bit More Stupid

It was getting on near noon in Texas, nearing New Mexico, in late summer, in a vehicle with no functional roof. Aside from the brief brush with a freak weather event, it was getting pretty hot. Pretty darn hot. The cool of the morning was fast becoming a distant, beautiful dream. The drenching they'd taken only a short while ago would have been welcome.

Yumichika was sweating through his clothes, and he was pretty sure he was getting a sunburn. Ikkaku looked much more comfortable, but there was no way he wasn't going to turn into a lobster if he didn't put on a shirt.

"Ikkaku. Jump into the back and get the hat out of my bag. I'm dying."

"I thought we said we'd stop if we needed anything out of the back. Too many stupid things have happened today." He moved to do it, nevertheless. Not afraid of a bit more stupid, Ikkaku.

Yumichika grimaced and pulled over. It wasn't like one more stop would make a difference, with the way the jeep was guzzling gas. At least that way Ikkaku wouldn't have to root around in his stuff again.

He jumped out to get to his bag and noticed that the ground was cracked. Sunbaked. How did it manage to look so dry after a downpour only that morning? They were not in Kansas anymore, for sure. Thinking about his face looking like that, he pulled the hat out and gave it a hug before tying it onto his head.

"You look like a vintage housewife. At the beach."

Yumichika harumphed and stuck his tongue out at his caveman of a passenger. "At least I won't burn. Your looks really can't take the hit, you know. Want to borrow something now?"

Ikkaku rolled his eyes. They were turning into teenagers faster by the hour, apparently. "Unless I shrank in the last few hours, it's still not happening."

"I've got a scarf that would help. Or you could wrap yourself in bits of the roof. That might suit you better."

"Ha. Ha. Thanks, but I go outside all the time. I'm burn-proof."

Yumichika performed his own eye roll in return, but it was hidden by the sunglasses he put on to go with the hat. "I am pretty sure it doesn't work that way. Suit yourself, Lobster Face! Don't come crying to me!" He climbed back in, tested the security of his hat, and took them back out onto the highway.

"Too bad nobody else uses this road. I could show off my beautiful wife."

"No one would believe an elegant, attractive lady like me would go out with you. Your feet stink. Get them off the dash."

"They stink more if I don't air them out. And there's no way women sweat as much as you are right now."

"That no sweating thing is a myth, which you would know if you knew any women."

"Hey, what about Rangiku? She's definitely female."

"If you've never noticed her sweating, you're nose-blind as well as the normal kind of blind. And dumb."

"Yeah, well she doesn't count."

"Exactly. And I'm telling her you said she doesn't count as a woman."

"That's cold, man. I'm sorry I called you my wife, okay?"

"Too late. The damage is done. My masculinity is eroded beyond repair. I'm feeling very delicate right now."

"Bullshit. You're about as delicate as a rhinoceros."

"Good heavens, language. I think I'm getting an attack of the vapors. I need a mint julep."

"Is that offer to let me cling to the spare still open? I don't think I'll be able to hear you back there." Ikkaku slid down as far as he could in his seat and hid his face in his hands. Yumichika grinned and kept right on driving. Ikkaku's head beaded sweat as it continued to redden, slowly, inexorably.


	14. Such a Fine Site to See

Yachiru found a weird statue while passing through a little town in Arizona. Some dude standing on a street corner with a guitar, with a sign helpfully saying "Standin' on the corner." Maybe it was to help the people in the town learn to read. Maybe they labeled all sorts of things in this town! She didn't see a lot of other labels, though. Just the one. She stopped and took a picture with him. She only drooled on his head a little bit, in a fond way. It was a funny statue.


	15. Grapes of Wrath fanfic now, comrades

There are cacti near Winslow, Arizona. Sneaky ones. There will be one or two sitting by the road, mixed in with the desert scrub, and then none for a big, long stretch. Prickly pears don't count. These are little barrel things. Adorable. They make you work for the pleasure of seeing them.

Ephedra is another adorable denizen of the Arizona desert. It's known as Mormon Tea because people used to brew it and drink it. Now ephedra dietary supplements are banned because they tend to kill people. The ephedrine is nice, though. These plants look a bit like horsetails, but grow in bushes. And now you know.

Yumichika and Ikkaku didn't pay much attention to the plants, of course. Not many people do. But they're there, nonetheless. Watching. Waiting.


	16. Post-Apocalyptic Tex-Mex

It was getting late into the afternoon, and Yumichika and Ikkaku were starting to see billboards for places like Grand Canyon and Meteor Crater and Bearizona. With all of the destruction around, it was beginning to feel like the end of the earth. An apocalyptic wasteland of sorts, inhabited mostly by tourists and well-fed bears. It would have been a much more exciting apocalypse if the bears ate the tourists once in a while, but apparently Bearizona wasn't a Michael Crichton sort of park. Ikkaku had looked it up to make sure. They were both disappointed. So were the bears, perhaps.

A loud sound came from the direction of Ikkaku's gut, audible even over the wind and the road noise (thanks so much, off-road tires). Ikkaku scowled and poked at it. "What time is it? How long since we finished those chips?"

Yumichika pointed at the clock. He was getting good at pointing at the dashboard clock without looking at it. "It was before noon. That's counting the Arizona time zone shenanigans. Why, you want to stop?"

Ikkaku was busy counting on his fingers. "That's... too long. If I die of starvation, it won't matter that we lost the Hellbeast."

"All we did today is sit. You don't need food, you'll just get fat."

Ikkaku was indignant. "Hey, I haven't just been sitting here. I risked my life! Twice! I lost a bunch of blood!"

Yumichika's stomach helpfully decided to launch its own protest at the same time. He let out a rueful sigh and rubbed his face, one hand on the wheel. "You and my stomach are a pair of conniving bastards."

"Hungry conniving bastards! Let's find a town!"

They found a town. It was one of many tiny towns on the post-apocalyptic, bear-littered road to the tourist trap wonder of the natural world known as the Grand Canyon. There, among many cowboy-themed businesses, they found a place that might not demand shoes and shirt for service: KFC-Taco Bell. Kentucky Fried Chicken Taco? Maybe. They parked and walked in.

They walked out again. Evidently not a no-shoes-no-shirt sort of an establishment. The Taco Chicken Fried Bell was classier than they had thought. They climbed back into the jeep and used the drive-through instead.

"I should take off my pants, too. That would show 'em."

"That would definitely show them something."

"There's nothing wrong with how I'm dressed!"

"The part of you that's dressed, no. Well, there's a lot wrong with what you're wearing, actually, but we'll ignore that for the moment. It's the undressed part that's the problem."

"I'm not gonna take advice from you on what to wear. You have fits when you see a purple jeep and you're wearing a girly hat."

"I'll remind you of that the next time you're going on a date and want to look slightly less terrible than you normally do. You don't want MY help!"

"Joke's on you, Yumi! I never get dates! It doesn't matter how I look!"

"..."

"Wait, that came out wrong."

"I don't think it did."

"Dammit." Ikkaku turned away to face the window and stare at his own surly pout reflected back at him. "Did they forget our order or something? How long is this gonna take?"

Yumichika peered into the drive through window. Plenty of activity, but no one approached with any sort of food. It looked like the entire town had turned out only a moment before to order several thousand burritos each, inside the store. They were all wearing shirts, of course, so they could do that. He leaned his face on his fist and idly watched the maelstrom.

It took nearly half an hour to get their food. They had already paid, or they would have just left. No one would have noticed. No one would have cared. The food would have been eaten by some other member of the horde shambling around inside. The shirt-wearing horde, that is. It looked like they were starting to fall upon and devour the weaker members of the mob, near the end of the wait. Yumichika handed the bag off to Ikkaku as fast as he could and peeled out of there.

Finally, the sun long in the sky, they were back on the road. They had no idea whose food they had, but the twenty bean and cheese burritos that person had ordered were pretty good. Neither of them considered the possible ramifications of such a meal in the next few hours. They drove on into the afternoon sun towards California and the end of the road.


	17. End of the Line, Part 1

Once Yachiru crossed the border into California, she had to pull out her carefully hand-written directions. Contrary to popular belief, she knew she had no sense of direction whatsoever, and she really did not want to get lost after coming so far. It had been her most successful trip ever. Ever. She was still on the right continent, facing the right direction, and best yet, in the right state. There were palm trees and everything.

She left Route 66, turning down successively smaller roads until she arrived at a rather expensive looking home in a residential area. The gate was open, as she had arranged before her arrival (via emoji-laden text message). She grinned a huge grin and downed the last of the Oreos. She had made it. This was officially, officially her most successful trip, her best plan, the best day of her life. Ever. She rumbled up through the gate and disappeared behind the privacy fence.


	18. The Afterlife is Canada

Time was starting to blend together. Everything looked the same. So much corn! Plants. Something. Something yellow. He was getting so tired of yellow! The sun was setting. He was pretty sure he had been driving through this field all day. Maybe longer. Was he dead? Was this the afterlife? The afterlife could stop being yellow, any time.

He was getting tired. Could you get tired after you died? Maybe not. Just a never-ending field of yellow plants in the world of the living, then. If he didn't find a paved road in the next hour, he was making camp out here. Again. He would need to devise a way to collect water if this went on for much longer. Maybe he would try eating the plants. Sorry, farmers. A man's got to do whatever it takes to survive. He would pay them back in free fertilizer.


	19. Only Made it Out to Needles

They were forty miles past Needles, after several miles of construction work through the last leg in Arizona, and Yumichika was officially done. As the Starbucks coffee, as the yoga pants, done. So done. Just, done. With driving, that is. He was becoming a menace. He couldn't even keep his eyes open, let alone keep the jeep moving forward in the right lane. He saw a rest stop exit and he took it. Ikkaku was woken by the change in the engine sound, because Ikkaku was a huge ass who took naps when he was supposed to be navigating. Ass. Done.

Ikkaku looked around blearily. "Are we there yet?" He yawned and peered around at the rest stop-like locale. And lo, it was indeed a rest stop, complete with bathrooms and picnic tables and not much else. There were a few semi trucks parked farther off, but the lot was otherwise empty. "Are we staying here tonight? Won't the police throw us out?"

Yumichika barely got them into a parking spot before turning off the engine and slumping over the steering wheel. "I don't care if we're not supposed to sleep here. I'm sleeping here." He decided the wheel impression wouldn't do his face any favors, so he did his best to lean back instead. "Maybe they'll arrest us so we can sleep in jail."

"Naw, you just gotta look awake. Here, get me a marker. I'll draw eyeballs on you so they can't tell you're asleep."

Yumichika turned his head and stared. Hard. "I'm going to pretend you didn't suggest that." He calmly and deliberately got out of the driver's seat and climbed into the back. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be sleeping on my duffel bag." In moments, that is exactly what he was doing. It looked incredibly uncomfortable. Adult humans were not meant to sleep in the back of that jeep.

Ikkaku shrugged, dug a marker out of the glove box (because why not?), and did his best to perform the necessary modifications to his own face. He could not see himself in the mirror in the dim light of the restroom buildings. He was still half asleep, and not terribly artistic at his best. He assumed it would be sufficient, having done it several times in the past with no adverse consequences. He stretched awkwardly over the front seats and fell back asleep.


	20. Inner Beauty

"Please kill me. I can't move my back, or I would do it myself."

Ikkaku snored in response. Because Ikkaku was an ass who slept through Yumichika's pain. Ass. Yumichika decided that, whether or not he was going to die immediately after, he would have to get out of his duffel bag and out of that jeep, and soon. He couldn't take much more of the fetal position.

He egg rolled off the bag, onto the cold, hard floor. Emphasis on cold. That was enough. He shrieked and jumped, all the way over the side and onto the pavement below. Thanks to having slept in an egg shape all night, his legs failed him immediately, and he collapsed like an overdone noodle. The parking lot surface was surprisingly comfortable, in comparison.

Yumichika lay for a moment with his face pressed against the asphalt, staring at a mysterious stain and contemplating his life. He did not want to see himself in the mirror this morning. He had not bathed recently. His hairs were conspiring against him. He probably had bags under his eyes. How was being murdered in his bed at home any worse than this? At least he would be presentable and not feel disgusting in his final moments.

A particularly hearty snore from the front seat of the jeep dragged him up out of his funk of despair (but not the general funk, smell-wise). Well, he SUPPOSED it would be bad of him to let Ikkaku die without trying to help at all. Maybe he was cultivating his inner beauty. He would have a great personality after this, for sure. He could not quite contain an incredulous snort at the thought. Nevertheless, he peeled himself back up, brushed off the weird parking lot dirt, grabbed a change of clothes and a large bag of toiletries and wobbled into the public restroom to minimize the damage.

He came back, sparkling as well as he was able (not a bad job, considering the circumstances!), and made a beeline for his bag. Some days were good hair days. Some days were bad hair days. That day did not qualify as any sort of hair day at all. It was a hat day, or maybe a scarf day. Maybe both. He got his glasses back out from the day before, too, just in case. Maybe no one would recognize him and he would not have to kill all of the witnesses.

Turning around to start work on removing Ikkaku's feet from the driver's seat, Yumichika was stopped short. There was some sort of demon sitting blearily in the passenger seat, and Ikkaku was no where to be found. A bright red demon had eaten Ikkaku. This was an entirely unacceptable turn of events. It clashed with the wisteria of the jeep.

The demon leaned forward off the seat with a sick sticking noise. It swore in Ikkaku's voice, grabbing at its back. That seemed to hurt nearly as much, and it swore again, much less blearily, and twisted around to inspect the damage. It had Ikkaku's face, too, which fell dramatically as it slowly began to comprehend the extent of Ikkaku's sunburn. Yumichika burst into hearty guffaws.

"You look like a lobster! I knew it! Mr. 'I can't burn' isn't looking too hot now, is he?"

"It's... crunchy. Why is it crunchy? Everything hurts!"

Yumichika reached over the door and lightly poked Ikkaku's shoulder. He chuckled again as Ikkaku flinched away, hissing. "You know, I've got some lotion you should put on that. If it's not too GIRLY for you, that is."

Ikkaku growled. "This doesn't mean you were right. The sun is stronger in the desert! This wouldn't have happened at home!" He tried to cross his arms and look away, but cringed and settled for not touching anything, anywhere, ever. He finally mumbled out, "yeah, I'll take the stuff. If it'll stop being crunchy."

Yumichika retrieved the "stuff" along with some concealer. He brandished both. Ikkaku gave him a confused look. He explained. "You've got some pretty epic bags under your eyes. You look like a red panda, rocking an ensemble like that."

Ikkaku continued to look confused as well as suspicious, and did not take the concealer. He took the other stuff, though, and headed for the rest stop building. A few minutes later, he returned covered in a thick layer of white lotion, with with a wild look in his eyes and huge smears of black marker around them. "It won't come off!"

"What the hell is... you did the thing. That thing you said." Yumichika began to crack up again. "I thought you were joking! What sort of moron draws eyes on himself with permanent marker?"

"This is not funny! It's always come off before! That was the wrong marker!"

"And it's not the first time! This is excellent! You've outdone yourself!"

"Stop laughing and help! I look like death!"

"Since when has that bothered you?" Yumichika did his best to school his expression. "It's not that bad, you know. Very high fashion."

"Still not funny!"

Yumichika threw up his hands. "What do you want me to do? I'm not a god. You'll just have to wait until it wears off." Not that it was impossible, necessarily. Just too funny as it was to risk ruining it. Ikkaku did not have to know. It was his own fault for knowing nothing about personal grooming. Yumichika sat down in his seat to compose himself. "Are you ready to go?"

Ikkaku went to run a hand over his head, apparently remembered the lotion and thought better of it. He squeezed his hand into a fist instead, took a deep breath and let it out. He sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees. It looked very uncomfortable. "Yeah, sure. Why not? Let's get breakfast, too. I'm already sick of bean and cheese burritos."

Just the thought of those burritos stirred up uncomfortable feelings in Yumichika's gut. "Great, I hadn't even thought about those yet this morning. Thanks a lot."

"Glad I could help. Wouldn't want to keep all the fun for myself."


	21. Prepare to be Boarded

They were getting stared at by the Californian commuters. It was like no one had ever seen a ghost-white, shirtless man and his sunhat-bedecked wife out for a morning drive in their wisteria jeep before. A man who had probably gotten into a fist fight recently. With his face. Yumichika had really expected more from California. You shouldn't believe the hype, as it turns out.

Route 66 was nearing its end, and they were coming to the realization that they had no idea where Yachiru had been headed. Ikkaku had pulled out his phone again and was poking at it like he was texting. Not texting very well, but texting.

"What are you doing now? Typing out your will?"

"I'm trying to get ahold of Rangiku. She was supposed to be at that thing. She would know where it is."

"Why don't you call her? Isn't she answering?"

"No, I kept getting her voice mail. It's not even her own recording, you know? It's her boss."

"I guess I haven't gotten her voice mail before. Why is her boss doing her voice mail recording? Isn't that kind of intrusive?"

"It's just him apologizing to the world for her behavior and asking us to call him instead. Says she never bothers to check her messages."

"That's fair. She doesn't check her email much, either. Why DON'T you call him?"

Ikkaku wrinkled his nose in distaste. "It always feels like he's lecturing me. He's, what, twelve? He can mind his own business!"

"Rangiku certainly isn't going to mind her business if he doesn't do it for her."

"Yeah. I guess he would know where she is. I'll do it."

He did it. He made a lot of faces while doing it. Most of them were not kind, but he probably regretted making most of them thanks to his sunburned face and purple nose. Finally, he hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket. He grimaced (at the phone, although his hands were burned, too).

"All he knew was that it's somewhere near Los Angeles, some sort of swanky guy's house. He also said I should be at work, and that I probably need to pay my rent."

"Don't you?"

"No! I'm not a bum!"

"Huh. You know, I've been thinking there was something I forgot to do when we left. Maybe it was bills!"

"You can pay your bills when we get home! We're busy! Now, how are we gonna find one rich dude in a whole state full of rich dudes?"

Yumichika didn't respond. He was staring at the oncoming traffic, his head slowly swiveling to follow something past. "Did you just see that?"

"See what?" Ikkaku craned his neck, trying to see without touching anything or stretching his crunchy skin.

"That motorcycle! With the pink helmet! And the tiny person! It's her!" Yumichika was already frantically looking for a place to turn around.

"I see it! Yes!" Ikkaku had turned around completely and was shading his eyes against the rising sun. "She's getting away! Go!"

"I can't turn any faster! Watch her!" He finally got them turned around in a highly questionable u-turn maneuver. The people he had jumped in front of provided a collection of rude shouts and gestures, which they did not see. Their attention was glued to the pink dot in the distance.

Ikkaku, frustrated with his limited vantage point, stood up in his seat and grabbed the front of the jeep frame with one hand, pointing wildly with the other. "SHE TOOK THAT EXIT. WHY ARE YOU SO SLOW. GO!"

"THIS PIECE OF JUNK WAS NOT DESIGNED FOR CAR CHASES. I CAN LITERALLY GO NO FASTER."

They were at this point dodging in and out of the morning commute, once more earning a reputation for being dangerous morons from Kansas. Dangerous suicidal morons, in Ikkaku's case. Normal people don't stand up in open-topped vehicles, especially open-topped vehicles pushing ninety miles per hour.

Ikkaku, keeping a close watch on the pink helmet, squinted suddenly in confusion. "Why are there two people on the bike?"

"What do they look like? Is it someone we know?"

"I don't know ANYBODY around here. It's definitely not Rangiku."

"Who's driving?"

"The other guy."

"Guy? You didn't say it was a guy! What if she's been kidnapped?"

"WHY ARE WE TALKING WHEN WE SHOULD BE GOING FASTER?"

"I HAVE NO IDEA."

They were closing in on the motorcycle when the driver happened to take a look behind him. He saw a couple of dangerous morons from Kansas closing in on him, fast. One of them was standing shirtless in the passenger seat and shaking his fist. The motorcycle driver did what any sensible person would do. He screamed and sped away like he was being chased by a pair of dangerous morons from Kansas. The pink helmeted passenger had to hold on for dear life at the sudden acceleration.

Ikkaku shook his fist with increased fervor. "HE SAW US! HE'S GETTING AWAY! HE'S DEFINITELY A KIDNAPPER!"

"HOW CAN SUCH AN OLD BIKE MOVE SO FAST?"

"PROBABLY NITRO!"

"THAT MAKES NO SENSE!"

"I JUST REALIZED THAT SHUT UP."

Somehow, despite the disparity in performance, they were gaining on the motorcycle. It might have had something to do with the driver not being a dangerous moron from Kansas. Well, he might have been from Kansas. Maybe he was even a moron. But normal people do not engage in car chases with complete strangers. It does not happen. It is not safe. Don't do that.

Actually, by a quirk of fate and infrastructural planning, they were running out of road. The pavement was getting worse and worse. Accordingly, the stupid off-road tires were becoming less and less stupid, and the motorcycle looked like it was struggling. It slowed. Yumichika and Ikkaku both roared in victory and pulled alongside it.

The other driver gave them the finger and shouted across to them, "SHOVE OFF, BALDY! AND THE OTHER ONE!" The bike gave a huge wobble and he returned both hands to the task of steering.

"STOP OR PREPARE TO BE BOARDED!" Ikkaku was gesturing expansively with both arms now at the other driver, foot hooked on the arm rest and leaning over the side of the jeep.

That particular demand didn't sit well with Yumichika. "What are we, pirates? That's stupid. HE DIDN'T MEAN IT. HE'S NOT REALLY GOING TO JUMP ON YOU. DON'T JUMP ON THEM! AND I'M NOT 'THE OTHER ONE!'"

At that point, no one was looking at the road anymore. Everyone was screaming, Ikkaku was getting ready to jump out of the jeep, they were getting slower and slower as the road got worse and worse, the guy on the bike was losing control of his bike. They hit the end of the road. He lost control of his bike. Both riders went flying into the ditch.

Yumichika, who had been watching the motorcycle and not the road, slammed on the brake. The jeep stopped surprisingly well, thanks be to off-road tires, for all it was not moving terribly fast anymore. Ikkaku also went flying into the ditch. Yumichika swore, tore off his seatbelt (which he had been wearing the entire time - the whole trip, actually!) and jumped out of the jeep, hopping to keep his balance down the hill. "Don't be dead! Nobody be dead!"

The ditch was full of agricultural runoff water and flailing bodies. They were not dead. They looked pretty upset, though. Ikkaku had landed on his face, again (and again not really seriously), and was getting lotion everywhere as he tried to get the mud out of his tender nose. He was surrounded in the water by a rapidly growing rainbow sheen. The driver seemed to be stuck in the deep mud of the opposite bank. The pink helmeted passenger had struggled out of his helmet and seemed to be trying not to drown. He was not Yachiru at all. He was some random dude from California.

Yumichika stood and stared for a moment, the realization sinking in that they had just run two complete strangers off the road. There was something distinctly illegal about that. Unethical, at the very least. Then he squared his shoulders, verified the security of his sunhat, rolled up his sleeves and went to fish the poor tiny guy out of the ditch. He used a stick he found by the road. Touching mud was just asking too much of him.


	22. Good, Bad, Ugly, and the Other Guy

As soon as he was fished out, the tiny guy drooped onto the top of the bank and panted, dripping with ditch water. He did not let go of the stick. Yumichika tugged on it a few times, then gave up and looked across to the wiggling feet of the larger fellow still sticking out of the bank.

Meanwhile, Ikkaku had gotten the worst of the mud off of his face and was wading over to pry the guy out. He pulled once, twice - and fell backwards into the ditch as the other guy came out with a squelchy 'pop!'. They landed in a heap in the muddy water. After a short, impromptu fist fight that nobody won (but Ikkaku's nose lost) and a lot of spluttering, they crawled up to lean against the bank, worn out and smelling of fertilizer. Yumichika and the tiny guy watched the whole thing in silence.

Yumichika broke the silence. "So... I think we've had a bit of a misunderstanding. If you two are alright, we should just... go..."

The larger of the two strangers was having none of that. "Wait a minute. Are you seriously gonna try to kill us and then say it was a misunderstanding?" He started crawling up the bank, glaring from Ikkaku to Yumichika and back. He had a really, really ugly glare. "If that's the plan, Pal, think again. Look at poor Hanatarou! He can't handle that sort of excitement! We deserve an explanation. And maybe a bunch of cash."

Poor, tiny, sodden, drooping Hanatarou did indeed look pitiful. Yumichika kind of felt bad. That was, until the ugly guy made it all the way up the bank. Then Yumichika managed to yank the stick back from Hanatarou and held it up in a defensive manner. It was a completely unnecessary gesture, however, for at that moment the ugly guy spotted his motorcycle lying on the edge of the road.

"Bonnie!" With an anguished yell, he scuttled over on his hands and knees and carefully eased it upright. Bonnie was a beat up old Harley of some type, but this guy treated her like a lady, setting her up carefully and then trying to wipe the mud off with more mud. Judging by the varied collection of scuffs and dings, however, Bonnie and he did not always get along. This was perhaps not their first trip into the ditch. Yumichika and Hanatarou watched his ministrations in silence, Yumichika still holding the stick, Hanatarou looking somewhat abandoned.

Ikkaku finally clambered out of the ditch. His nose was bleeding again, and the permanent marker had smudged off a bit more in the water; he looked like a corpse paint enthusiast with hay-fever. He would need more lotion, for sure; he was bright red again under the mud. What with the continued escapades involving blood and general filthiness, his shirtless lifestyle was becoming more and more convenient. On the other hand, the pants would need to be laundered if he intended to spend more time in Yumichika's company.

Ikkaku addressed the ugly guy who was still fawning over his battered motorcycle, reverting to his bloody-nosed accent. "That was a pretty good punch down there. You want to fight, or call it even?"

"What? Oh. Was that me? Of course it was me! Pretty impressive, right? But how does that make us even?"

"I distract you into crashing your bike, you punch me in the face. Considering the crash was technically your fault and you called be bald, I'd say that's more than fair."

"There's no way that was my fault! I'm a fine, upstanding citizen! I pay my taxes! And what about Hanatarou? He ended up in the ditch, too! And you ARE bald!"

"It's shaved. And I guess he can punch Yumichika in the face. Fair?"

"Hey, you don't have a say in what happens to my face!" Yumichika brandished the stick indignantly.

Hanatarou stuttered quietly, "That's really not necessary. We're all fine, right Ganju?"

"No, Hanatarou! You have to punch him! A man has to protect his honor!"

"Exactly!" Ikkaku nodded vigorously in agreement, blood spattering everywhere. "We're not square until you hit him!" He continued as an afterthought, "It doesn't have to be the face, though."

Yumichika narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but stopped brandishing the stick in Hanatarou's direction. Hanatarou wearily got up. He plopped his helmet back on, for some reason, and cautiously approached Yumichika. Yumichika proffered the arm that was not still occupied holding the stick, as a target. He and the pink helmet eyed each other warily.

Hanatarou made a fist. Not a very good fist, but a fist. He carefully gauged the distance, the wind speed, the footing. He coughed lightly. He pulled back his arm. He punched!

And he missed! His meager momentum carried him forward in a lurch, and he headbutted Yumichika in the stomach. Yumichika said "urk" but was otherwise unaffected. In other words, Hanatarou used Headbutt on enemy Yumichika! It wasn't very effective...

Hanatarou did not move from the end-point of his headbutt, so Yumichika poked him in the shoulder. Ganju and Ikkaku stared on in baffled incredulity. The flow from Ikkaku's nose slowly subsided, bitter for being all but forgotten.

"Ow..." Hanatarou staggered back from the savage poke. He pulled off his helmet. He rubbed the back of his head and grinned sheepishly (and droopily) at Ganju. "Is that okay? Is my honor safe now?"

Ganju looked at the ground and exhaled gustily in defeat. "Yeah, I guess so." He shrugged at Ikkaku. "I'd fight you instead, but my sister'll throw me out of the house if I cause any more trouble this week. You know."

Ikkaku was still dealing with his incredulity at the punch. He could not get his left eyebrow to return to its resting position. "Um. Sure. So we're good?"

Ganju shrugged again. "I guess." He held out his hand to shake. Ikkaku took it. They shook. It was very manly indeed. They became the best of man-friends. Ganju graciously ignored the nose blood getting smeared on his hand.

Ikkaku gripped just a bit more tightly. "But I'm not bald. It's shaved." His smile was a bit too friendly. The blood all over his face did not help the image at all.

Ganju replied in kind. "Of course not, Cueball. You work hard for that hairless shine."

Yumichika and Hanatarou were again stuck staring wordlessly. The handshake continued, both contestants showing more and more teeth. When their noses were nearly touching, a great cracking noise from their joined hands broke the standoff. They jumped apart, wringing their hands nonchalantly. Hanatarou tentatively reached out his hand toward Yumichika to shake as well. Yumichika rapped it with the stick.

It became a silent, four-way standoff quickly enough after the friendly handshake. Their eyes flicked around the rhomboid they had fallen into, judging and appraising: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly, and... the Other Guy. Yumichika was not sure exactly what one was supposed to say to friends recently won through vehicular violence, and he assumed that the others were likewise stumped. Ikkaku and Ganju's faces said as much, or maybe Ganju always looked like a stoned gorilla. It was Hanatarou, of all people, who spoke up at last.

"So, that is, not to be rude, now that we're honorable and, um, friends and all. With manly handshakes. But why were you chasing us?"

Yumichika tried valiantly to stop turning red out of embarrassment, but he failed. Ikkaku was already as red as he could get in more ways than one, so he scuffed at the ground with his muddy, bloody, sandaled foot instead. Ikkaku answered:

"Thought you were kidnappers. Ganju, that is. Don't see that many pink helmets around, and the kid we're supposed to be watching has one."

"Seriously?" Ganju's face had gone from stoned gorilla to exasperated gorilla. "Hanatarou, you need to bulk up. This is the third time this week! I'm tired of being mistaken for a criminal!"

Hanatarou seemed to droop even more. "Yeah, sorry." He twiddled his pointer fingers together and looked appropriately remorseful for failing to be buff. Then he perked back up (relatively) in concern. "Wait, what about the kid? Why did you think he was me? Is he lost?"

"Not _he_ ; the Hellbeast!" Yumichika shivered in spite of himself. "She escaped when we were supposed to be watching her, back in Kansas early yesterday morning."

Ikkaku nodded along. "Stole our boss's Indian Chief and took off. I still don't know how she's riding that thing! She's only like three feet tall!"

"Ah... she... three feet..." Hanatarou drooped back down to sit on the grass, fading off into the background. It sort of looked like he was trying to evaluate his arm muscles through his shirt sleeves. Whatever the outcome, it didn't seem to please him. The drooping intensified.

Ganju rolled his eyes at his compatriot and returned his focus to the conversation. "You followed her all the way to California, then lost her and decided to hassle innocent taxpayers? How hard is it to keep track of one little girl?"

Ikkaku's forehead twitched in irritation. It could not have been comfortable, considering the burn covering his face. "She's not normal. A Hellbeast! She likes to drool on my head!"

Yumichika nodded emphatically, sunhat bobbing. "She's worse than our boss! Well, not the drooling part. If we don't get her back, he'll murder us! She's just the same!"

Ganju snorted. "Afraid to die? What sort of men ARE you?"

"Dying's one thing, but being MURDERED IN OUR BEDS is something else entirely." Ikkaku's eyes were very wide. He may have been putting entirely too much thought into this during the long drive the day before.

"Besides, weren't you the one screaming bloody murder when we were chasing you a few minutes ago?" Yumichika smirked. It provoked the return of the exasperated gorilla face on Ganju.

"I just happen to be the sort of man who would rather not die today, if you don't mind. Besides, I was watching out for him." He gestured vaguely back at Hanatarou, who was mournfully doing pathetic finger exercises by himself.

Yumichika and Ikkaku shot the little guy a dubious look. "That's fair," they said in unison.

Ganju nodded with great seriousness. Then he cocked his head. "So what's this girl of yours doing out here? Going to Disney Land? Escaping into the ocean? Hunting rich husbands in Silicon Valley?"

Ikkaku held up his finger, as if to explain, then stopped. His mouth opened. It closed. He squinted in confusion.

Yumichika deadpanned, "You don't remember, do you?"

"It was that... thing. Women. AHA!" Ikkaku grinned and smacked his hand with his fist. "The woman convention!" Then he shuddered. "Not husbands. Not yet. No..."

Yumichika was going to try to explain what "woman convention" was supposed to mean, but Ganju had adopted the look of a gorilla sparked by sudden recognition, perhaps from sighting a particularly delicious bit of thistle. "The lady convention? My sister's been talking about that! She calls it something else. Don't remember what. Says it's not worth her time."

Ikkaku and Yumichika adopted identical looks of gorillas who have just driven all the way from Kansas in a stupid wisteria jeep and would really like to go home now, and are shocked that they have just found exactly the man they need to talk to. Or something like that. It was a lot of nuance for two faces to convey.

"You know what it is?"

"Take us there!"

Ganju shrugged. "All I know is it's at some fancy pants guy's estate. My sister would know where."

"Take us THERE, then!"

"Ask her for us!"

Ganju was rocking the face of an uncertain gorilla. Certainly a gorilla, mind you; the adjective is for the gorilla's expression. "I don't know. She's not a fan of Mr. Fancy Pants, but she's not a fan of clowns like you two, either. No offense."

"At least TRY!"

"Let us follow you home!"

"Not in a creepy, stalker-ish way, that is." Yumichika added. He waved the stick in a reassuring manner, then gestured with it at Ikkaku. "And don't lump me in with that clown."

Unimpressed, suspicious gorilla arrived on Ganju to round out the gorilla-faced super squad. "That is not nearly as encouraging as you seem to think it is. But it's not like she couldn't just shoot you if you made her mad. Yeah, okay, whatever." He turned around to fish Hanatarou out of his gloomy, droopy funk. "Hey Bud, we gotta go! Get that helmet back on!"

Hanatarou was surprised out of trying in vain to do a pushup, and fell on his face. He hopped to his feet spritely enough, though, and plunked the pink, soggy helmet back on. He gave a salute and marched over to the bike.

"Why do you have the bike but he has the only helmet? I thought you were all rich in California." Ikkaku asked as he tried to squeegee the blood off his tender chest before he got back into the jeep.

"Safety!" Hanatarou piped up.

"It's my helmet. I'm not gonna let him break his head open when I give him a ride just because I can't afford another helmet. It's not decent."

"Cheap, chivalrous safety!" Hanatarou added helpfully. His expression was obscured by the helmet, but he held up his finger excitedly when he said the words 'safety' and 'cheap'. "If you're going home, can you drop me off, though? I'm gonna be late."

"Crap, you're right! Sorry!" Ganju hopped onto Bonnie and coaxed her to growling life. Hanatarou was already waiting for him on the back. "You guys hurry up! We're going!" Ganju tiptoed Bonnie painfully back onto the most road-like part of the dirt path and roared away.

Yumichika scrambled back into the jeep while Ikkaku finished wiping blood off on his pants. Yumichika did not think about the ditch water soaking into the seats. He just followed the motorcycle back toward civilization.


	23. Being for the Benefit of Mr Paunch

After all of his attempts to find civilization had failed, civilization found Kenpachi Zaraki. On that particular morning, civilization took the form of a paunchy, flannel-clad fellow driving a green tractor. Mr. Paunch pulled up, hopped down and knocked on the window of Kenpachi's truck. Kenpachi opened his eyes slowly and squinted in confusion at the flannel suddenly filling the space in front of his face. He rolled down the window.

"You lost?" Maybe Mr. Paunch owned this field. He did not look happy to find someone parked in it.

"Maybe." Kenpachi made a strong effort to vocalize above a growl, but mornings were tough like that sometimes. "Might be dead. Can't tell. You live here?"

"Yep. This here's my Canola. Those your tire tracks in my Canola?"

"I don't know what Canola is, but I've been driving through fields of this nasty yellow stuff for days. Tastes terrible. Figured I fell asleep at the wheel and this is Hell."

Mr. Paunch gazed vaguely off past the truck into the distance. "Sometimes I wonder." He shook himself back to reality, jowls jiggling. "But you're only dead if I am, and I ain't, and if I want to break even on those fancy goat soaps for the Missus this year then you need to get off my Canola."

Kenpachi did not know much about the price of goat soap this year, or even why anyone would want to wash a goat, and he still had no inkling of what Canola was, but he had some experience with family members and bills; Yachiru ran up plenty of her own sorts of bills. Phone bills. Vet bills. Grocery bills. He felt a chill run up his spine. Grocery bills. And it was all CANDY.

Mr. Paunch patted his shoulder with a large, calloused hand. "You see how it is. How 'bout you just follow me out to my place? I'll get you some breakfast."

"Only if it's not leaves. I'm sick of leaves."

"Yeah. You're not supposed to eat 'em."

"I was in a rough spot. It was the leaves or my boots, and my kid got me these."

"That why they're pink?"

"Yep. Speaking of my kid, you mind if I use your phone? Mine's broke. Stupid thing's useless."

"Technology these days, right? All these fancy gadgets and it's impossible to make a phone call."

"Yep."


	24. NASA Tour at the Mule Museum

Yumichika and Ikkaku followed Bonnie back to civilization and up to a hospital, where they stopped and waited as Hanatarou hopped off the bike and pulled off the borrowed helmet. He handed it to Ganju, then smiled in a pathetic sort of way, waved and trotted into the building. Ikkaku frowned uncomfortably as Ganju crammed his large head into the pink helmet.

"He's not some sort of cancer patient, is he? Did we seriously just beat up a cancer patient?"

"No, nothin' like that." Ganju spoke through the now-open visor, which Hanatarou apparently did not prefer to open, ever. "He's a PA. Pretty smart stuff. Just wish he'd finally save up for a car so I can quit carting him around."

"PA as in physician's assistant?" Yumichika was appalled. "He's what, twelve years old?"

"And puny! Why is he puny?" Ikkaku was similarly affected.

Ganju shrugged. "I don't know, genetics? Don't ask me! Let's go, or my sister'll be on my case for loitering around in town again." He took Bonnie back to the road. Yumichika and Ikkaku followed once more, pondering the puzzle of the puny PA.

Ganju led them back out of town and away from Route 66. It was their first major deviation from the faithful old byway, and they were almost sad to go. Almost. They would see it again soon enough if their newfound luck held.

After driving for nearly forty minutes, which felt even longer since they had to stare at Ganju's back the entire time, they saw a sign saying "Welcome to Old Town Boron. Twenty Mule Team Museum. NASA Tour Info Ask at Museum." They stared, but it was apparently old news to Ganju. He drove right on past. They quickly entered a little armpit of a town.

"So do they do the NASA tour at the mule museum?" Ikkaku had used up the last of the lotion during the drive, turning it a nice shade of pink with his nose blood, and was once again sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, narrowly avoiding the glove box. It looked pretty cramped.

"Keeping mules and space ships in one building is a serious faux pas, Ikkaku. You should know that by now. Or were you asleep all the way through New Mexico?"

"Sorry, don't know what came over me. That was foolish."

"You're probably just sensitive to the magical aura of the fifth element."

Ikkaku looked like he was wracking his brain for that reference, but to no avail. "I thought that was love. Is it space, then? I don't love space OR mules, and I sure don't love you."

Yumichika wanted to head-desk on the steering wheel, but taking his eyes off the road had not been working out well on this trip. "Google it."

Ikkaku rolled his eyes. He was getting pretty good at doing that without messing up his nose. He dug around in his pants pockets until he found his phone. He poked it. He looked back at Yumichika and said flatly, "I can't."

"Why not? What did you do?"

"Besides get tossed into a ditch with it? Nothing."

"Huh. It's boron, then."

"What's boron? Does that mean I need a new phone?"

"The fifth element, you stinking baboon! Boron! This town is called Boron!"

Ikkaku contemplated that for a moment, then huffed in exasperation. "Give me a break! I'm distracted! My nose is throbbing, I'm covered in this stupid lotion crap, and now I have to buy a whole new phone! It wasn't even a good joke!"

Yumichika gasped in outrage. "That was pure comedy gold! You're phone's a piece of junk, and you can probably fix it, anyway! Do you know how many times I've managed to think of jokes that good? Not a lot!"

"That's the best you can do for jokes and you call ME a baboon?"

They did not quite run Ganju over when he stopped, but it was close. Thinking back over the drive through Boron, trying to sift past the mouth noises coming out of Ikkaku's stupid face, Yumichika vaguely remembered seeing a huge open pit mine. Maybe. It had not seemed notable at the time. They were past it, anyway. Ganju led them slowly down a long driveway.

The driveway led to a house. Something like a house. A house with arms. The arms held a banner. The banner proclaimed "Kuukaku Shiba" in impressive, intimidating lettering. Yumichika and Ikkaku stopped sniping at each other in favor of staring at the spectacle, but again this seemed to be old news to Ganju. He drove right up under the ridiculous banner and parked Bonnie next to the house. Yumichika did likewise with the jeep, but stayed well away from the arms. The stone muscles were creepy.


	25. Women's Society for Societal Betterment

It sure was easy to reserve convention space in a swanky place like this when the owner was out of town. There were tastefully placed, ineffable (or was it inscrutable?) pieces of wall art, large, neutral-tone vases full of sticks, and even wax fruit! Yachiru was not actually a big fan of the wax fruit. It was not as delicious as it looked. Altogether, it added up to something very much like a fancy hotel, but one that nobody ever stayed at or breathed on too hard.

Luckily, they had an in with the security dude. He knew Rukia and Rangiku from way back, and apparently his boss, the owner of this place, had been pissing him off a lot recently. Something about a woman. Typical. Men (all adults, she supposed) were pretty dumb sometimes. All it took was a promise to the dude to play nice and not break anything too much (hopefully this caveat did not extend to the wax fruit) to get the place to themselves. Yachiru had not even had to threaten him, which was sort of disappointing, really.

That, and Rukia, Chairwoman of the Committee for Artistic Development, technically lived here. Technically. It was complicated.

Yachiru was getting ready to call the business meeting to order. They had brought in donuts, which was great, but now there were sprinkles all over the room. It may or may not have been mostly Yachiru's fault. Getting Nanao and Nemu to pick those up to save for later would have to be the first item of new business. Definitely before lunch. She would need them for lunch, for sure. Important president business.

Yachiru cleared her throat and whacked what might, at one time, have been a wax pear on the table in front of her. She noted the smear of wax it left, compared it favorably to an ugly crayon in her head, and stowed that bit of wisdom away for later. Nemu, sitting quietly to her right, came to rapt attention. The others did not. She whacked HARDER. The table shook. Any lingering resemblance to a pear was obliterated. The assembled members of the Women's Society for Societal Betterment came to order. They dared not NOT come to order. Honored Former President Unohana smiled and looked on from a comfortable chair in the back of the room.

"Okay everybody, welcome to the first official meeting of our annual conference: The business meeting!" Yachiru tried to grin as big as possible so as to set a positive tone for the rest of the day. Never mind the business meeting was stupid. She really wanted to get to the break out sessions to talk about the calendars. But all in good time. "So, for our first order of business, I'd like to move to suspend the rules so we can skip all the boring old business and talk about sprinkles! And man-calendars! Who seconds?"

Judging from the noises escaping from Nanao's pursed lips and the steam from her ears, it looked like there was going to be a fight. The vice president sure did love her old business. Yachiru let her grin fade, leaned her chin on her palm and absentmindedly bit into the ex-wax pear.


	26. Gentlemen to Rhyme with Scum

Yumichika and Ikkaku's audience with Ganju's sister was not going well. Kuukaku Shiba (of the large, intimidating arm banner) had already laughed at them, insulted Yumichika's hat, made a snide remark about Ikkaku's swollen nose and shiny head as well as his overall beleaguered state, called them a pair of dangerous morons from Kansas, threatened to punch Ikkaku for staring at her arm stump and generally indicated that she thought they were up to no good. They had not yet even explained why they were there. Apparently, that had to wait until after the tea was ready to defend themselves. There were rules. Ganju took forever to make tea.

The lady of the house held court in a large, open room that gave visitors nothing to occupy themselves with or hide behind. She sat in the middle of the floor, fanning herself and ignoring Ikkaku and Yumichika, who were standing in front of her. She apparently did not prefer to pay for air conditioning. She dressed for the weather instead; Ikkaku looked overdressed by comparison. For various reasons, it was Ikkaku and Yumichika who were sweating.

She fanned. Ikkaku fidgeted. Yumichika watched a bead of sweat grow on Ikkaku's bald head until it reached critical mass, left a long streak down the vast tracks of lotion in its path, and finally soaked into his damp, ditch water-smelling pants. When Ganju suddenly appeared in a frilly apron carrying a tea tray, Ikkaku and Yumichika jumped and the lady Shiba laughed at them again, fanning harder and motioning for tea. Tea was served. Ganju then retreated to sit politely by the door, awaiting orders.

"Well, Gentlemen, what can I do for you?" She said "Gentlemen" in such a way that it sounded much more like "Peasants" or maybe "Insects" than any sort of polite address. She sipped her tea loudly and eyed them critically, expectantly.

Ikkaku was the first to screw up some courage. He was very careful to not stare at the arm stump. He stared at her feet instead. "Ganju said you know where the woman convention is happening, and we need to get there. Can you tell us?"

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You don't look much like a woman. Not sure about your friend. Just what are you trying to pull?"

"Nothing! Nothing is being pulled!" Yumichika jumped in, waving that idea down emphatically. "We were... babysitting... and the kid escaped. On a motorcycle. She's there now, and we need to get her back so our boss doesn't murder us." He scuffed his toe on the ground, realizing how competent that explanation made them sound.

The eyebrow kept creeping higher. "You mean to tell me that a kid who needs, big pause, _babysitting_ managed to drive off on a motorcycle? From under the noses of two grown men?" She smirked. "You two are an embarrassment to babysitters everywhere. Twelve year old kids do better."

"You wouldn't say that if you met her." Ikkaku muttered, eyeing his own feet. Yumichika nodded earnestly in agreement, hat flopping. "She siphons gas. She's a delinquent."

"So your boss is a violent babysitter madam specializing in high-risk children? Is that what's happening here? Is this even legal?"

"What? Yes! No? He's her, um, father. Guardian? I don't actually know." Ikkaku had let his eyes snap to her face in his surprise at the confusion, her face that was dangerously close to her missing arm. He returned his gaze to her feet. "It's a side gig. He owns a salvage yard. We work there. It's legal!"

"You work at a salvage yard and you drive that monstrosity out there? It's a purple jeep."

"Wisteria! It was NOT our first choice." Yumichika's hands were balling up into fists. Those were fightin' words. "You see how serious the situation is, then, don't you?"

"It's nearly killed me three times!" Apparently Ikkaku was not so fond of the funny jeep anymore.

Ganju finally decided to pipe up from the door. "The one with me and Hanatarou doesn't count, Cueball! YOU were trying to kill US!"

"SILENCE." Kuukaku chucked an empty teacup at her brother. He caught it. "Lowly assistants with smart mouths can take five laps around the house."

Ikkaku and Yumichika threw Ganju dirty looks as he jogged out the door. Then they realized they were all alone with his sister, who looked displeased. They returned to staring at a non-threatening spot on the floor.

"In our defense, we thought she'd been kidnapped. He looks kind of like a ruffian." Yumichika braved a glance at her face. She looked less displeased? Maybe. Understanding, even. Long-suffering, almost.

"Yeah, we get that a lot. Don't know where I went wrong. He used to be cute." She leaned her elbow on her knee and shook her head mournfully. "Raising kids is tough." Her head stopped shaking, the mournful look became appraising. "You know what? Fine. You poor fools could use a break. I'll write down the address. Gimme a sec."

She got up and wandered off to find some paper. Ikkaku and Yumichika did an undignified dance, a jig of victory, and prostrated themselves at her feet when she returned. She let the note fall and stick to Ikkaku's head, then nudged them both in turn with her foot.

"Alright, now scram. You two stink."

They scrammed, although Yumichika sorely wanted to stay to defend his honor. He had not even TOUCHED that ditch water. The note remained plastered to Ikkaku's head all the way back to the jeep. As they drove away, they spotted Ganju making his last lap in the rearview mirror.


	27. So Much Drool

On a scale of one to ten, Yachiru ranked the meeting so far as a two. As in, she had managed to convince Nemu to sneak around the room picking up sprinkles for her, which was good, but Nanao had been adamant about sticking to the rules and going through the old business. All of it. In order. "The fundamental right of deliberative assemblies require all questions to be thoroughly discussed before taking action!" or something. It was the worst.

Well, it HADN'T been the worst, just the nearly worst, but then the report on the new society website happened. Kiyone Kotetsu, rather, happened. Kiyone had volunteered to work on the website before the website was a problem. The website became a problem. Unpleasant spam creatures became a problem. Viruses became a problem. Nemu's creepy adoptive father-slash-cousin-once-removed getting access to the forum became a problem. Kiyone did not know anything about websites. Even Yachiru could tell that Kiyone knew nothing about websites. Kiyone had tried hard. She had found helpful manuals at the library. She had asked her roommate, who also knew nothing about websites. They tried harder together. They raced each other to become proficient in the use of Machine Code. Kiyone won, then dodged the boogers and dirty socks her roommate threw at her. It was gross. Immediately afterward, they learned that easy-to-use software for building and maintaining websites already existed, and did not require any specialized programming knowledge like Machine Code. Particularly not Machine Code. Learning Machine Code was a terrible waste of time. Kiyone and her roommate drowned their sorrows. Kiyone built the new website with relative ease using easy-to-use software designed for that purpose. Kiyone then produced a powerpoint presentation about her long journey to website creation and shared it with the rest of the society at the annual meeting. Yachiru fell asleep and drooled on the table.

Yachiru dreamed. In her dream, Baldy was chasing her around the salvage yard to take back his stolen afro pick. "But you're bald! Bald!" she kept yelling back at him. "It's shaved! Shaved!" he replied. Over and over. Finally she got the jump on him over a rusty yellow microbus. She put him in a headlock and drooled all over his shiny pate. "If it were shaved, I would see hair! There's no hair there!" "Nooooooooo!"

There was so much drool. Yachiru woke up with her face in a pool of it, the bitten, squashed and otherwise abused ex-wax pear half in her mouth. Nemu poked her as if she had tried the maneuver several times already without success. Yachiru sat up, wiped her face on her sleeve and stretched. Nemu smiled a tiny, tiny smile and pointed to an unfolded napkin on the table full of sprinkles. They were sorted by color and size. Yachiru grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, then tried to start listening to the old business again while she ate the sprinkles one at a time, in order from least to most favorite color. Important president business indeed.


	28. Give Earth a Hug Pull the Plug

It turned out that an address alone in an unfamiliar state did not help you get where you wanted to go. Ikkaku's phone persisted in being dead. Yumichika's mother had not kept a California state map in the glove compartment (although they did find an impressive collection of plastic spoons, individually wrapped). They drove back into Boron and stopped near a bit of scary mining infrastructure.

"I guess we'll have to stop for a map or something. How old-fashioned." Yumichika wrinkled his nose at the prospect, then remembered that he was too old to risk not worrying about wrinkles. He tried to look put-out in a non-blemishing way.

"What about your phone? There's no way you packed that huge bag and forgot your phone."

Yumichika humphed. "The roaming charges would be outrageous. I'd rather buy a map."

"You left on all of the lights in your house AND garage, and you're worried about roaming charges?"

Yumichika's eyes grew wide. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. "I wouldn't... I didn't..." He suddenly glared at Ikkaku in a distinctly non-non-blemishing sort of way. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME BEFORE WE LEFT?"

Ikkaku seemed unconcerned by Yumichika's tone and the situation as a whole. "I thought I did. You were acting like a zombie all the way into Oklahoma. Maybe you forgot?"

At Ikkaku's failure to escalate the argument properly, Yumichika's anger fizzled out. "Dear god, the bills..." He slumped into his seat and pressed his face against the window. "The bills..."

Ikkaku clapped him on the shoulder. "At least we can split the gas money, right?"

"You haven't paid for any of the gas. Because you're a jerk. Jerk."

"I'll pay you back later! It'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

"Why are we even having this conversation. How hard is it to buy a map?"

"It's windy. With our luck, it would probably turn into a kite and fly off with me."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. And reading in the car makes me sick."

"You've used your phone in the car without puking everywhere. That has definitely happened on this trip."

"Phones don't count. I don't know why."

"I'm telling your phone you said it doesn't count if it ever recovers from that swim. I'll text it. When we get home and the roaming charges don't apply."

"Your phone plan sucks. And we'll never get home if we don't find this address."

"Your face sucks. We only have to look at the map when we're not moving. I promise. We could even ask somebody at a gas station for directions. Because we need gas again. I hate jeeps. All jeeps."

"But especially this jeep. Because it's wisteria."

"Exactly. And it's clashing with your pink lotion beautifully."

"Thank you for noticing. I tried hard for this look. I did it for you."

"Maybe you shouldn't stand up in the moving jeep anymore. Keep the seatbelt on. Perhaps wear a shirt."

"I'll consider it."

They pulled back out onto the road and drove off in search of a gas station. The day was still young.


	29. Tasteful AND Empowering

"And just how would a nude calendar be tasteful OR empowering?"

"There's nothing wrong with naked people! We're all naked sometimes, right?"

"Some of us more so than others." Nanao eyed her opponent's ample, exposed cleavage with disdain. "I'm sorry, I just do not see how using nude male models would in any way contribute to societal improvement."

Rangiku slammed her fist into her palm. "We're taking back our bodies! If WE sexualize THEM as much as THEY sexualize US, it's fair. We'll remove the social stigma. Besides, our Artistic Development Head said that nudes could be done very tastefully."

Rukia nodded from outside the combat zone. "I know this guy. It's quite beautiful. Personally, I prefer the "strategically placed stuffed rabbit" option, but there's a whole catalogue of themes we can pick from."

"But... how will we convince anyone we know to pose for that sort of picture? Isn't it awfully... embarrassing?" Momo, who had been chewing on her nails and turning steadily more red throughout the debate, sat on her hands and tried to disappear under the table as she mortified herself with her own question.

"We give them no alternative. Not to say that I necessarily approve of this project." Soi Fon, who had not expressed her preference one way or another up until that point, spoke up from the corner of the meeting room. Her face spoke volumes about what would happen to men who did not give their consent.

Yachiru, who had been thinking much the same thing about coercion before Soi Fon beat her to the punch, clapped in excitement. "Yep! We're very persuasive! AND, it looks like we're ready to vote, because now we'll win. Those in favor?"

"No! Not those in favor! This topic has not received adequate discussion!" Nanao pushed up her glasses, which flashed dangerously. "And we haven't even decided who will be featured for each month."

"So you support the naked man calendar, now?" Rangiku asked wearily.

"That is neither here nor there. Right now, we need to be thinking about our subjects' hair color, skin tone and general physique. Please pay attention."

"This could totally be a separate movement. Why can't we vote?" Yachiru pouted and tried to make her eyes look teary. "I haven't gotten to count hardly any votes yet today."

Nanao pursed her lips in reply, not impressed with the crocodile tears. "Oh, fine. Do what you want. It will not be my fault when our meeting notes are messy."

Yachiru perked right back up like a plant after watering. "Yay! All in favor?"

A chorus of "Aye"'s followed.

"Opposed, same sign?"

Nothing.

"Momo, silence means consent. That's the super official Robert rule."

Momo turned red again but remained silent.

The core pro-calendar faction all cheered, namely Yachiru, Rangiku and Rukia. Yachiru thought she saw Soi Fon smile in a lecherous way, but she might have imagined it. Nemu emoted about as much as usual, but in a positive way.

"Great! Now let's all think of all the men we know who would make us lots of money in the calendar!"

Everyone got to work conferring and making lists. Everyone except Nemu.

"Um." Nemu was emoting in a slightly negative way, and lightly poked Yachiru to get her attention, speaking quietly at her side. "I only know one man."

Yachiru paused, tried to hold in an "ew" and a grimace. "Your creepy cousin-dad doesn't count. He can't be in the calendar." Her eye twitched at the thought.

Nemu looked crushed, in a very subtle way. It was a very sad sight indeed. Yachiru was deeply moved.

"Aww, it's okay! You can borrow one of mine! I've got tons of guys I can order around! There's gotta be at least one you like!"

Nemu looked touched, as if no one had ever been so kind as to lend her a naked man before. Truly. She even smiled. "That is very kind of you, Madam President. I would be honored to borrow one of your men."

"No problem! It's a big responsibility, having so many dudes to boss around, so I have to remember to share. As your president, I need to take care of you!" She gave a big, cheesy grin and a thumbs up.

Nemu responded in kind, albeit in a watered down, pathetic sort of way. American cheese, maybe, or Velveeta. "Your dedication is truly inspiring."

Yachiru did her best to encourage good behavior in her underlings. She patted Nemu on the head for the effort. "Now, let's look at pictures and you can pick one! Just imagine them naked. Except Baldy, you only have to imagine him a little more naked. Here!"

The Society spent the next several hours hunched over pictures, diagrams and color swatches, plotting.


	30. Great Green Globs of National Forest

"I remember being able to navigate with real maps in high school. I really do."

"It's a bad map, Yumi. You can't pick the cheapest map and expect it to be good."

"It's not like you're any help. You're supposed to be the navigator! Why am I doing your job?"

"Because you don't want to be covered in my puke. I told you I can't read in the car. Pull over!"

"I had to get away from that gas station. The cashier was wearing purple camouflage and the whole place smelled like pistachios. I just hope it's not contagious."

"The camo or the nuts? Aren't we far enough away yet?"

"Both. Mostly the camouflage. No."

"Well, suffer, then. It's this or my puke. Just don't hit anybody, driving like that."

"I'm fine. No. It's very safe."

Driving "like that" involved stretching the map over the steering wheel and splitting attention between the map and the road. The speedometer got the shaft. Ikkaku, who was admittedly not the safest of drivers, had been making liberal use of the ghost break ever since they pulled out of the gas station lot. He made use of it again, hard.

"Yumi! Stop trying to run over little old ladies!"

"Sorry! I had to fold over this bit of the map. Wait a sec, I can't smell the pistachios anymore. Just let me pull over and you can have it."

"Keep driving. The little old lady is coming this way. She's got a really huge handbag and she looks pissed."

Yumichika glanced at the rearview mirror and recoiled in horror, then drove on. "An acid green plaid handbag? Is she blind? There is no way that was my fault. She was probably subconsciously trying to put herself out of her own misery. This entire state is awful."

"Don't go all Angel of Mercy Fashion Police on us, now."

"Of course not, Ikkaku. I don't want to have to kill you. Underneath all of your shortcomings, you're really quite adequate."

"Thanks so much. And don't kill anybody by accident before you find a place to pull over."

"Fine, fine. I won't murder any old ladies by accident. Even if they deserve it. See? Here. Roadside certified one hundred percent free of old women."

Yumichika eased them onto the shoulder and relinquished the map. He kept a lookout for Plaid Handbag Lady in the rearview mirror as Ikkaku squinted at the discount California state map. A speck loomed in the distance, but it turned out to be an old man in a faded hat and a plain, beige button-down driving a brown Studebaker instead of a homicidal, colorblind old lady. Bland but relatively inoffensive.

Ikkaku jabbed the map decisively. "Isn't this in Los Angeles? It is. It definitely is. We went way out of our way when we left Route 66."

"No, really? That's awful. How far is it now?"

"Um. Do I look like Google Maps to you? It looks like a centimeter. Maybe two."

"Huh. I have no idea how long that will take." Yumichika sighed and ground the heel of his hand into his eyebrow. "Just figure out how to get there so I can drive without getting covered in your vomit."

Ikkaku began jabbing the map with his finger again. "Coming right up. Let's see, 14 turns into 405 and then there's... National Forest. It's impossible to see the roads on these green blobs of forest. This map sucks."

"So, what? Curl up and die because you can't be bothered to get glasses?"

"I don't need glasses! It's a bad map! Just drive. We'll ask somebody when we get closer."

Yumichika began to roll his eyes at the shoestring plan, then stopped. "Wait, are we going through Hollywood? There might be people who dress well?"

"Not exactly? I don't know?"

"I'm not sure I could bear to be seen like this by fashionable people. I've been counting on flying under the radar. Being inconspicuous. Incognito."

"That accounts for the bad retro lady spy getup."

"Exactly. But I might have to change if we go near beautiful people. I would just die if they saw me like this. With you. Maybe you should change, too."

Ikkaku growled. "You're being dumb again. Just drive! Won't the color of the jeep scare away anybody like you? They won't even SEE you!"

Yumichika stared hard at Ikkaku, appraising. "You know, you're right. Nobody with taste could bear to look in the direction of a wisteria jeep for long. Surprisingly astute, Ikkaku. You have hidden depths."

"Thanks so much. Again. Now DRIVE!"

They drove.


	31. End of the Line, Part 2

The final leg of the journey was surprisingly uneventful. Suspiciously uneventful. The cashier who gave them directions at the National Forest wasn't even badly dressed, and nothing hit Ikkaku in the face. Neither of them could speak for the last few miles, too busy glancing wildly at half-seen shapes and phantom sounds, expecting something terrible to happen. Yumichika pulled up to the gate of the incredibly expensive-looking house and realized he was drenched in nervous sweat.

Ikkaku peered at the Fancy Pants estate, breaking the silence. "If the Hellbeast is in there, I don't wanna know how much crap she's broken."

"It does look expensive, doesn't it?"

"This guy must have the Fanciest Pants in California."

"Not if it's that guy, he doesn't." Yumichika pointed at somebody coming toward the gate.

On a second glance, that somebody was slinking furtively toward the gate. Ikkaku shaded his eyes and peered harder. "Wait, do we know him?"

"..." Yumichika rubbed his chin, wracking the depths of his exhaustion-fried brain. "Abarai? Irritating kid? Red hair?"

Ikkaku smacked his palm. "That's the one! HEY! RENJI! WHAT'S WITH THE SNEAKING?"

Renji Abarai, irritating kid, red hair, formerly of Kansas, jumped and began to perform wild shooshing motions. He scurried the rest of the way to the gate and pressed into the shadow of the gate post, then bristled at them. "What are you guys doing here? Are you trying to get me killed?"

Yumichika's eyes went wide with interest. He leaned on his elbow out the open window and inspected Renji. "Why, are you burgling? Now's not the best time, you know."

"For one thing, it's the middle of the afternoon." Ikkaku leaned over Yumichika to address Renji as well. "For another, the Hellbeast is in there. Did you ever meet her? You'd remember if you met her."

Renji looked nonplussed by their pleasantries. "I'm not burgling! I work for the owner. Or I did until I let a bunch of crazy women camp out in the conference room." He raked a hand through his hair absentmindedly, throwing his ponytail into disarray. As he spoke, he was periodically glancing back at the house, as if expecting pursuit. "It was fine until they asked me to be in their calendar. _Nude_ calendar! _Artistic_ , they said!" He snorted in derision. "Sexual harassment is what I say. Told them no! Now a couple of really tiny chicks I've never even met are trying to drag me back to their perverted photo shoot. It's awful!"

Ikkaku and Yumichika listened with mystified fascination to the entire story, leaning heavily on the car door. When Renji finally finished, Ikkaku carefully rubbed at his nose, a nose rub of deep thought, and asked what was undoubtedly the most relevant question for the situation:

"Didn't you come out here to go to school? How did you end up here?"

Renji renewed his bristle. "None of your business! What are you two even doing here, and why do you look like that? Wait, no. There's no time for this." He slipped carefully through the gate. "Can you give me a lift? We can try to outrun them."

But Yumichika had removed the keys and was climbing out of the driver's seat. Ikkaku slithered out as well, leaving traces of lotion in his wake. Renji was taken aback.

"Nope!"

"Sorry."

"No can do."

Yumichika crossed his arms imperiously, paused to readjust his sunhat, then re-crossed his arms. "The time for driving is over! This journey has reached its end! No more shenanigans!"

"Unless it's a nude calendar." Ikkaku added. "I could get on board with naked shenanigans."

Yumichika nodded decisively. "So long as it's artistic."

They both marched through the open gate, bad retro lady spy and lotion-coated red panda together. Renji was left twiddling his thumbs next to the wisteria jeep, and gagged a bit when he noticed the color properly. He'd been living in California for a while, after all.


	32. ULTIMATE FINAL FORM

Some of the ladies tried to stifle their giggles. Nanao. Momo. It was a valiant effort. Soi Fon and Honored Former President Unohana succeeded rather better. Others, like Rangiku, made no effort to stop their hearty guffaws. Yachiru was rolling on the floor. Nemu simply smiled and blushed, glad that she hadn't picked either of those two from Yachiru's list of subjugated men.

Ikkaku soldiered on, doing his best to be heard over the cacophony. "As I was _saying_ , we'd be happy to be in your calendar, so long as we get final say on the pictures. And we need to take Yachiru back to Kansas right after."

Yumichika, meanwhile, had come to the sudden, unwelcome realization that he was having a bad hair day in front of people he knew (Rangiku) in addition to a room full of strangers. He was trying to fade into the wallpaper by the door.

Finally reaching a modicum of composure, Nanao pushed up her glasses and stepped forward to inspect the offering. "Not to say that your... beneficence... is unappreciated, but you're not exactly what we were looking for." She reached out her pen to probe a smear of lotion across Ikkaku's shoulder. It smeared more, and she nodded to herself. "Our project was intended for a more... mainstream audience."

"She means you two look stupid." Yachiru ceased her rolling to pipe up from the floor. She wasn't actually laughing anymore; she'd just been log-rolling across the conference room to bash into people's shins. Honored Former President Unohana's Honored Foot put an end to that.

That roused Yumichika from his sojourn with the wallpaper. He removed his sunglasses dramatically and brandished them at Nanao, who was (a) closest and (b) not the Hellbeast. "Excuse me? Let's see how fresh you look after a few days on the Road Trip From Hell! I haven't showered in over 48 hours and it's ALL HER FAULT." He had finally worked up the vitriol to brandish the sunglasses directly at Yachiru. Then, with only a slight tremor in his hand to show his hesitation, he tore off his hat and scarf all at once. His hair sprang into its ULTIMATE FINAL FORM. The afro's power level was well over NINE THOUSAND (or eight thousand, if you prefer reading to watching your DBZ). Everyone, including Yachiru, recoiled in horror. Momo fainted.

Ikkaku was subtly edging away from Yumichika, who had replaced his sunglasses and was standing statue-like and arms-akimbo. "Look, we don't have to make this a big deal. Just give us Yachiru and we'll go. She never got permission to be here."

"Oh, is that all?" Yachiru had already recovered, half-climbed Yumichika and was poking his afro in fascination. He remained a statue. "No problem! Kenny called this morning. He said it was fine! He's even going to be in the calendar! Just as soon as he finds a way out of Canada."

The captain had already called.

No problem at all.

He was gonna be in the calendar.

...

...

...

It was pointless.

The facade cracked. Yumichika wilted. Ikkaku looked dazed. They staggered out of the room. Rangiku made as if to stop them, perhaps to console them, but they stumbled on, unseeing.

They both collapsed like bunches of broccoli when they made it back to the jeep. Yumichika slowly dug the key out of his pocket and turned the ignition. Ikkaku put on his seat belt. They began the long journey back to Kansas in their hideous jeep.

They needed gas.


	33. The Long-Awaited Sequel

Uncut Director's Edition Title: Fury Road Trip 2: Road Fast Road Furious: Yumichika's Baby: Road Trip Harder: The Long-Awaited Sequel

* * *

Ichigo Kurosaki was drowsing on his bed, nearly asleep, when he heard the creak of a floor board. A strange voice spoke quietly:

"It's close."

Ichigo's eyes shot open and he sat up. There, in the middle of his room, was the tiniest cat-burglar he had ever seen. She even had a black cat-eared hood to go with her all-black burglar get-up. They stared at each other, shocked stock-still. Then his brain caught up with what was happening. He advanced on the intruder, wielding a pointing, accusatory finger.

"What the hell are you doing in my house? What sort of lame burglar are you?"

She backed up toward the wall next to the window. Nevertheless, she seemed just as indignant. "What do you mean, 'burglar?' What are you even doing here?"

"Me? This is my house! What's 'it?' Is that burglar-speak for the safe?"

"What sort of burglar wears cat ears? I don't want whatever sad excuse for valuables a kid like you keeps in his safe! It's all porn anyway, isn't it!"

Ichigo turned bright red, clashing brilliantly with his hair. "I don't need to take that sort of insult from a third-rate burglar in my own room. How 'bout we let the cops decide if you're a real burglar?" He pulled out his phone to start dialing, but was stopped by a great crashing noise as the whole house seemed to shake. A quick glance out the window showed a semi tractor trailer sticking out of what had once been the living room wall downstairs.


End file.
